Speccie What happened by 17 October
 

Oh dear. More prose. Humph!

No. 2769: what happened next
You are invited to supply the first paragraph/s (up to a maximum of 150 words) of the imaginary sequel to a well-known novel (please stipulate). Please email entries, wherever possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 17 October.

Speccie: What happened
 

My father gave me some advice about beating on against the current. Avoid drowning in streams of consciousness. So I returned to Chicago intent on fulfilling Gatsby’s dream: improv. I thought this was a word he had gotten during his Oxford days. It might have come from penniless immigrants in whose pennilessness he may have had a hand. I once used ‘pennilessness’ in Gatsby’s presence but he just said ‘Falconry. What do you think old sport?’ I agreed it was.
‘In the Middle West’, Gatsby had said, ‘trained falcons brought random food scraps for people to cook’ He had confused West with Ages deliberately to see me smile of course but he turned silent as if to say that some birds were not worth the wait. ‘Well the future is random words shouted out by folks in a dark room. Think what you could do with Nightie, Tender, Tycoon, Lust’